


Stain in the basement

by hisaribi



Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo [7]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Attempted Murder, Burns, Dead Sheriff Stilinski, Dead Stiles Stilinski, Ghosts, Haunted Houses, Human Theo Raeken, I can't tag it without spoilers to the story, I promice there isn't anything too triggering, M/M, Undead Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2019-10-11
Packaged: 2020-12-08 23:48:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20985284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hisaribi/pseuds/hisaribi
Summary: Theo's life is simple: buy old houses, repair, sell. He bought a house in Beacon Hills to do just that. Of course, something goes wrong.





	Stain in the basement

**Author's Note:**

> Welp, here goes the second week. I hoped it won't be more than 3k, but here we are. Also at some point, when I'm back from my hiatus (which probably won't really be a hiatus, because look at all the november events in bsd fandom and russian tw reverse, what is rest haha) I'll probably expand the story so I'll be able to write in all the creeps, but for now: here we are, yay  
It's also kind of the part of my neon witch verse, and I feel like I'll make it more original one, than only teen wolf related. with added creepypastas I read back in 2010 lol

Theo had a small business. He bought old houses, repaired them and sold. Nothing big, two stores most. Sometimes people paid him to only repair house. It wasn’t enough, so he only bothered with such if he didn’t have money at all.

This house was nice and small, in a tiny town called Beacon Hills. He grew up in a town like that. Silent, calm and uneventful. And the house was like that.

Some old man who was once a sheriff died there from a heart attack. He didn’t have any children or family, so the house was first made town's property, and then Theo bought it to repair.

It was almost impossible to live in, very unkept. The smell of a body which lied there for at least a few months still lingered. Some things that belonged to a previous owner were still there. Nobody was to claim them, and it seemed like there wasn't anything worth money or attention.

Theo contemplated to throw it all to free space but decided not to yet. There might be something of worth, or he could repair it and sell or even leave there. Thankfully, this house didn't have an attic. A basement, though, could complicate things.

There was a burnt stain there. It was old, washed and didn’t affect any communication, and yet it was weird. But there were no mentions of someone dying there – aside from this old man. What was his name… Tom? John? Noah? Whatever. Maybe something caught on fire, and it was put off quickly.

The basement had a lot of boxes. Clothes: child and female. Some toys. A few journals. If any of this is decent, he could donate it or whatever. Theo told himself he didn’t care about people who lived there. Even though there should be some tragedy, because of how the man died alone, surrounded by things his family members owned.

Tragic. If he was more poetic or whatever, he’d write a short story about it. But that didn’t matter.

He took everything and decided to drop it to one of the shelters for them to deal with.

He left diaries behind, though, and went through clothes in case something of the cost was left there. There was nothing. He also collected all the man’s clothes from his room to donate as well. He had no use of it and didn’t want to throw it.

Theo got weird looks when he brought clothes. People didn’t know him, and nobody asked. Well, that’s for the better. He wasn’t planning on sticking. From what he gathered, the repairing would take like two months. Food wasn’t as cheap as he hoped it’d be, but he’d rethink his budget later.

When he came back, he went to the kitchen to eat a take-out and stilled in a doorway. There was a young man, looking attentively at the empty table. Theo frowned.

“Hey, what are you doing there?” he asked.

The guy jumped and looked generally surprised to see anyone. He was pretty, a bit pale, with upturned nose and beauty marks all over his face. Just Theo’s type.

“Uh, I’m here to visit a man who lives there, and who are you? He doesn’t have any children, though you kinda look like him.”

“Oh,” Theo said and felt his features soften. “Uh, sorry to inform you, he’s dead. I’m a new owner.”

“Oh,” the guy said, he blinked and when he opened his eyes he was looking back at the armchair. “Uh, I wasn’t there for a few years, went to college.” Theo thought he looked a bit young for someone studying in college but didn’t say anything. “And, uh, do you know where they buried him? I, hm, we were close when I still lived there, my family lives next door, and,” the guy rumbled. “Oh my god,” he sighed and rubbed his face.

Theo felt a bit sympathetic, even though he had a few questions.

“How did you get here anyway?” Theo didn’t have time to change locks though.

“Uh, right,” the guy said and fished keys from his pants pocket. “I had a spare one because he had a weak heart, and also it was more convenient for me to go shopping and just bring him… Oh my god.”

He mindlessly went through keys, looking generally shaken.

“Sit down, I’ll bring you water.”

It wasn’t that he didn’t want the guy to leave as soon as possible, but he didn’t have the heart to do so. Because the guy stumbled on a chair, putting keys on the table. Theo put his take-out food on the table and went to the sink.

“Did you repair that already? The old man never came around to do it, and it’s broken for as long as I remember myself.”

Theo didn’t have time to answer, because he did turn the water on, and got went in a few seconds. Great.

“Yeah, and plumbers in this house are so old, that I wouldn’t risk drinking from the sink anyway.” The guy sounded amused though. The tint of grief tainted what could be a nice voice.

“Ugh, you seem to know your way around this house,” Theo said and turned around, deciding to take the shirt off. The guy gazed over his body and then only looked at his face. Which was kind of refreshing in a way.

Usually, people undressed him with their eyes, but this was not the case.

“Yeah, I know every cracking step, where there are… were issues. I doubt the old man repaired it, but yeah, I know what’s up with the house.”

“I donated almost everything from the basement,” Theo said, and the guy slouched a bit. “Clothes mostly, but there are still diaries. If you need them, I can get them to you.”

“Will it be ok if I come to collect them tomorrow? That’s just now… I’d really like go home, yeah,” the guy asked.

“Yeah, sure,” the silence hung in the air. “I’m Theo.”

“Ah, it’s nice to meet you, Theo,” the guy smiled. He didn’t say anything, too shaken.

“And what’s your name?”

“Oh, right. I’m...” he paused and frowned for a second. “I’m Stiles.”

“Did you just think of this name?” Theo hummed and leaned his head. “Because people usually don’t pause because telling their name.”

“Nah, that’s just, I thought if I should make your life difficult with my real name because it sucks.”

“Huh, ok, keep your secrets,” Theo waved his hand and smiled. Stiles did look amused at that.

“Yeah, sure,” Stiles huffed and stood up. “I’ll come here tomorrow, I… may help you sort things if you want me to.”

Theo would say no in any other situation, but the guy looked so devastated, that he didn’t have it in him to send him away.

He felt this way when he finally came home after a few years away to learn Tara committed suicide. He felt sympathetic to the guy who came into this house without a care in the world.

And Stiles looked like a nice one night stand for this town.

“I know my way around this place, so no need to lead me to the front door, have a nice meal and all that.” Stiles stumbled over the chair and left the kitchen. Theo huffed and came after him after he checked the keys Stiles left there were still on the table.

“You didn’t have to,” Stiles began, grasping the front door.

“That’s my house now, so I’ll lock the door after you.”

“You said house, not home,” Stiles said and huffed. “Are you going to just repair and sell it?”

“Yeah, that’s what I’m doing for a living,” Theo nodded, feeling a bit weirded out by how Stiles grasped it from one wrong word.

“Huh,” Stiles blinked and looked away. “Ok, I’ll come back tomorrow. See you.”

“Goodbye,” Theo said and closed the door.

He didn’t think there was someone who cared about the man who died alone. It was a sob story to tell on Facebook. It’s easier this way.

* * *

Stiles did come back the next day. And the day after that day. And Again. And again.

He became the usual guest in this house, almost spending all the time with Theo. They didn’t talk about the old man who lived there. Stiles obviously didn’t want it, and Theo didn’t push, because, frankly, he wasn’t that interested in it. Whoever lived there, they were left in the past.

Stiles was fun to be around, even though sometimes he spaced out and looked a bit lost. He was true to his words and knew his way around the house and advised what needed changes.

But he didn’t want to be touched and shied from any physical contact. Theo found it a bit weird but didn’t ask.

The time they spent together kind of made Theo fall for Stiles. He was witty, pretty, jaded in a way that didn’t make their talks uncomfortable, but nicely fit with Theo’s own traumas. Stiles was a guy who got him on some spiritual or whatever level.

Theo never believed in soulmates, but now he thought this might be it.

* * *

There must be a door behind the wallpapers on the second floor. The house had enough space for another room, and Theo needed to reach it. He asked Stiles about that when they finally reached the second floor. The basement and the first floor had all the issues estimated. Theo even bought all the materials he’d need for that.

“Dude, I have no idea. I think the old man did some repairs. I don’t remember the door here.”

Theo had to leave the house and look from outside. Even there weren’t any windows, but the house surely had space for another room here. Well, he’ll find it out when they finish shredding the wallpapers.

When Theo was about to go home, he noticed an old man with crazy eyes and hair staring at him with maniac intensity. He felt chills running up his spine, for no real reason. He suppressed this feeling and smiled at a neighbor. Even though he won’t be there for long, he should be at least somewhat polite, shouldn’t he?

The man frowned and looked at the house. Theo looked back as well, noticing Stiles standing in the kitchen and drinking water. It was something normal, but when Theo looked back to the neighbor, the man wasn’t there.

“Who lives there?” Theo asked when he came back. Stiles looked at the house and shrugged.

“Coach. Well, he was a coach like ten or so years ago, but people keep calling him that. He was a teacher in Beacon Hills High School, and also a lacrosse team coach. Coach Finstock,” Stiles huffed.

“He looks like a maniac who could kill me during the night,” Theo huffed and poured a glass of water.

“Nah, he’s harmless. Mostly. If you don’t play lacrosse.”

“I played baseball,” Theo smiled. “Well, at least when I was a child.”

“You look pretty well-build for someone who only played in childhood.” Stiles smiled, tracing Theo’s body with his eyes.

“Well, I do train a lot.” He flexed his hands, but Stiles didn’t pay attention, once again looking at the place where an armchair was. Theo threw it away because it was broken. He did so with most of the furniture on the first floor and moved to the second one.

“Sure,” Stiles murmured. “Hm, let’s deal with that mysterious door then. Solve the mystery!”

Theo smirked, “sure”.

* * *

There was a door. It stood there, behind wallpapers. It didn’t have a doorknob and had a construction foam around, so they had to break in.

When Theo went through things of the previous owner, he was surprised by the lack of photos. He gathered this man lost his family. It was too painful to keep it, but, he kept all the diaries and clothes in the basement. He might’ve put photos somewhere else.

He did, apparently. Photo albums, photo frames, photos, it was all there in the middle of the untouched room.

It almost jumped at him with the feel of something from twenty years ago. A teenage boy lived there, put drawings and posters on walls, had books and clothes lying around. But it was so long time ago, and, it seems, the room was forgotten after the funerals. The window was bricked up.

Canned.

Theo felt ill and stepped back. Stiles looked inside with an interest.

“Oh god, I hope we won’t find a body there,” he chuckled, way too excited about it.

“I fucking do,” Theo muttered, counting that he’d have to make a new window. “At least it doesn’t smell like there’s somebody dead like it was when I just moved in.”

Stiles flinched at that.

Damn.

* * *

Son’s face was painted with a black marker on all photos, even childhood ones.

* * *

Theo ignored all the night noises this house emitted. If he believed in supernatural, he’d imagine there was something there. A ghost of the old man still lingering in the kitchen, or this weird burnt stain he couldn’t hide behind the paint.

He wondered what exactly happened there.

So he asked Stiles.

Who stilled.

“A mess,” he said lightheartedly and kept painting walls of a room.

They finished with all the electricity and water communication. Now there went finishing, decoration, and interior.

Stiles changed the topic every time Theo tried to bring it up, so he stopped. But Beacon Hills was a small town, and this suburbian area was full of rumors, you only needed to listen and talk.

There was this maniac man living here. He watched Theo with guarded eyes ever since they met. Coach Finstock. Every time Theo left the house he didn’t leave his gaze from him.

After a morning run, Theo halted to a stop next to Finstock. This man looked old enough to know what happened there.

“Well, shoot,” Finstock said, leaning on the porch.

“I don’t have a gun,” Theo said, smiling.

“Don’t smartass me, I worked at school longer than you can even comprehend. And I freaking taught the Stilinski kid, who lived in this house.”

Theo already had his guesses, he didn’t want to see it.

How Stiles never touched him and didn’t allow touches.

It wasn’t like Theo was a very tactile person, not after the childhood he had. But they didn’t touch each other even in passing for all these weeks of working together.

How Stiles seemed to dissolve in thin air from time to time, and then pretend he left silently.

Or how he appeared out of nowhere. Theo changed locks, and said something about ‘the door wasn’t locked’. Theo was too tired usually to remember it, or too distracted.

How Stiles didn’t have a mobile phone or any phone at all.

Stiles Stilinski sounds a bit like a bad joke.

“What happened there? According to official docs, the only one who died there was this old man, heart attack.”

“Noah Stilinski. He was one of the best Sheriffs this goddamn town had,” Finstock huffed. “His son died like twenty or so years ago, and his wife died thirty or so years ago. Like, she had some kind of disease, can’t remember it now.”

Female clothes Theo found in the basement. As for his son, Theo remembered a whole teenage room untouched. He didn’t have time to take clothes and stuff from here to the shelter yet.

“But they didn’t die here, right?”

“Oh, of course not, they died in the Memorial Hospital of Beacon Hills,” Finstock spat like it was obvious. “The kid came back from his freshman year of college. There was one more tragedy about thirty-five years ago. The deputy had got shot and became paralyzed. The kid of this deputy blamed Stilinski on it, went to jail for a few years, and decided to hurt Stilinski. He stabbed sheriff, who lost consciousness, but was ok after some therapy. He also stabbed his kid, Stiles.”

Theo thought he was prepared for something like that. It still hit him like a truck.

“Gutted him, but kid knew how to fight. He pushed revenge kid down the stairs to the basement.”

“He didn’t just push him, right?” Theo almost whispered. Finstock’s smile was unsettling.

“Exactly. Stiles set the revenge kid on fire down there. Nobody knows how or why, just that this happened. And I saw Stiles in this house all the time, even after funerals. You flinched when I used his name, didn’t you? Maybe you need to bring some salt.”

* * *

When Theo came home, Stiles wasn’t there. Theo, actually, though he’d be here, looking at him with one of his empty eyes. So to find a house empty was weird.

Theo showered and went down to the basement, to look at the burnt stain. He knew they had a light generator there. It was long broken when Theo came, but it used gasoline to power it.

He almost felt a scent of burning flesh, almost hear the screams.

_This revenge kid is still alive against all odds._

Finstock’s words ringed in Theo’s ears. If somebody didn’t die there, nobody had to write about it when selling the house.

Theo went upstairs, and that’s when somebody (Stiles, who else could it be?) knocked on the door. Theo let him in, of course, he did. Stiles babbled something about this show he saw this evening. In passing, he wondered where exactly he saw it

Theo grabbed him. He didn’t expect the burning cold to pierce his hand.

Stiles looked too pale, with deep violet and red bags under his eyes, even his clothes changed for a split second.

The door Theo didn’t have time to close closed itself and locked. Stiles almost jumped away, too surprised by it. His clothes were back to normal t-shirt and jeans, but he was still sickeningly pale. The bags under the eyes dissolved slowly.

He wasn’t human. At least he wasn’t alive.

“You talked to the coach, didn’t you,” Stiles’ voice sounded low. Threatening.

He didn’t say anything as they sorted things from the room. From his room.

“I thought ghosts are non-physical,” Theo only said. He had a feeling the door behind him won’t open.

“Well, we aren’t, apparently. Not that I met other ghosts,” Stiles shrugged. “How’s the hand? Dad said it hurt him to touch me.”

“Well, it did hurt, but like… I’ve got a burn, but not with fire? A cold-burn.”

“Huh,” Stiles said and looked toward the basement door he stopped next to.

Theo felt… weird. Logically he knew Stiles was dead for about twenty years now, and yet he was there, he was physical. Even if it was like touching something colder than ice. And he acted so normal, Theo could almost believe he was real.

“Don’t you fucking dare to pity me!” Stiles growled. Theo’s face changed so his emotions became too obvious.

The light that was turned off blinked. Stiles once again was too pale with bags under his eyes and in different clothes. It seemed like his hairs and clothes were flying in the wind, and Theo felt colder.

And he couldn’t lie, feeling like something was pushing on his chest. Like gravity became too strong. So he gulped.

“How are you still there?” Theo asked. To switch topic, and because he was interested.

“Ugh,” Stiles looked like his usual self for a few seconds. “Well, from what I researched, I’m like, a malevolent spirit who’s held there by people? I don’t know man.”

“Your dad and this guy who killed you?” Theo asked, stepping closer.

Stiles blinked and when he opened his eyes he looked at the basement door.

“And people who remember me, I guess.”

He looked unsure. He was stuck there and didn’t know a thing.

“Whatever. Let’s finish destroying my childhood house so you could sell it and live happily off the money you’ll get.” Stiles shrugged. There was no heat in his words, resignation. only

He went upstairs, once again, not making a noise, even his clothes didn’t rustle. Like he stopped pretending. Even his actions looked a bit glitchy, like a movie that missed a few frames.

Theo felt like he wanted to puke.

* * *

Stiles kept appearing like a normal person, maybe out of some sort of a habit. Maybe as a courtesy to Theo. Maybe because he wanted to feel somewhat human.

They worked on a house. Stiles emphasized on talking only about things that had nothing to do with the story of the house or his own life after death situation. But now his reluctant to touch became more apparent and understandable.

And yet Theo’s feelings toward Stiles didn’t change, even though he knew the guy was dead. He still wanted to be with him, even for a fraction his own life would allow him.

He thought of staying in this house, to call it home, to be with Stiles. Or try and leave with Stiles. Maybe they could travel, maybe they’d meet other ghosts or beings, who could explain what Stiles was.

He was so naive and romantic.

One day Stiles didn’t come.

And the next day.

The day after it.

Almost a week passed, and no trace of Stiles in the house.

Theo felt restless. He couldn’t do anything. Something was wrong, but he couldn’t even begin to phantom what should he do.

That was a lie. Find ‘the revenge kid’, find out more about ghosts or whatever Stiles was, do something.

During his morning run, he noticed Finstock sitting on a Stilinski’s house porch. He looked less maniac, more subdued actually. Theo took headphones out of his ears and stopped in front of Finstock.

“The guy who killed Stiles died a few days ago. They say he suffered in his last minutes. Well, he suffered for the last twenty years, almost unable to move.” Finstock sounded thoughtful. “Maybe Stilinski kid finally found peace.”

Theo felt his heart fall.

“I see,” he only said. “Thank you for letting me know.”

Finstock looked through him and didn’t move. Theo, though, went inside.

Whatever he felt toward Stiles was doomed from the very beginning – he was _dead_ for twenty years. He had no idea what held him there. He was physical for whatever reason.

Only his luck allowed him to fucking fell for a dead guy. Who burned a person alive before his death.

‘There was only one death and it wasn’t violent’ his ass.

At least now he knew he should finish the repairing and move on.

The guy he might have stayed for moving on to the afterlife or whatever happens.

Actually, only after Stiles disappeared it caught up with Theo, that he saw an example of an afterlife. Which was… unsettling to say the least.

Now he could go back to work and leave Beacon Hills as soon as possible.

* * *

Only some furniture was left to buy and set up. Some decorations. Theo didn’t really… feel like he wanted to stay there anymore.

He sat down in the new kitchen. The light worked properly and the sink didn’t splash water everywhere anymore. The scent of a dead body didn't linger.

Even the burnt taint of Donovan Donati – that was the name of the revenge kid – somehow nulled a bit. Like the entity that kept it intact moved on.

It was so weird. It wasn’t like a person died, he was dead, and… Theo was running in circles with his thoughts.

“I will stay here with you if you come back,” Theo said to the empty kitchen.

It was impossible. Stiles moved on, went to the light, whatever.

And yet he hoped way too much. He inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly.

That was stupid.

“Oh god, Theo, are you desperate or what,” he murmured and stood up to throw out the dishes.

The light blinked, which was unusual. Theo frowned and looked back. There was a white noise here, right in the middle of the living room. It was like TV-static but in reality.

“Stiles?” Theo asked, and it was… unreal in a way.

The static color changed from white to red. Theo frowned. He came closer, but static moved. Further and further, until it stopped next to the basement door. Theo didn’t dare to get a flashlight or turn the light on, he followed static down.

It stopped right where the stain was. Theo stilled. There was enough light to see all the diaries he gave Stiles during their initial talks. He never saw them again, but now, knowing what Stiles was, he wondered if they were here all the time.

Theo didn’t want to deal with these, they were memories of people he didn’t know or care. And yet, the static noise led him here. So he took old and a bit ruined books and went upstairs.

Static was still there, burning white.

* * *

Stiles didn’t come back as a malevolent spirit. He wasn’t even _a spirit_ at all.

Theo didn’t know what he was, it was written in a language he didn’t know. He had a feeling he didn’t want to know.

But he could bring Stiles back. Again.

And he would.

**Author's Note:**

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